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Chapter 4 - An Old Rivalry (TCOK)
Bubba made the first move. The large orange Clubba raced to Tubba after grabbing his club from Laff, his fists swinging rapidly. Tubba saw the move Bubba was telegraphing; the fists were just a distraction, the tenseness of Bubba's muscles indicated he would raise the club up high and bring it down on Tubba's head. Sure enough, when Tubba raised his club above his head so that the spiked head of Bubba's larger club contacted the magically-reinforced wood in the centre, Bubba peeled off with a look of surprise. "Not bad, shrimp." The large orange Clubba tilted his head in surprise. The jeers around them died down as the two Clubbas circled a point around their mutual centre. To Bubba's left, Laff was watching the battle intently, his eyes betraying his worry for Bubba. Tubba didn't even have to look to know that Gonzales' eyes would be full of confidence for Tubba. ''This is more of an even fight than you think, Bubba. ''While Bubba's sheer mass and bodybuilding strength gave him an edge, Tubba's smaller size allowed him the agility, and his exceptional teacher gave him an edge in the planning department. Bubba swung his left, free hand at Tubba's side but Tubba intercepted the blow with his own free fist, twisting his arm so that he bent the larger Clubba's arm awkwardly. Roaring in pain, Bubba peeled his hand away from Tubba, before spinning and striking Tubba on the side of the head with his club. Jibes rang around the courtyard as Tubba felt pain lance up his head, filling his eyes with a white light as he stumbled onto the turf. Not dwelling on the steady trickle of blood, Tubba rolled out of the way as Bubba slammed his club onto the dusty ground, where Tubba had lain a second before. Wiping the blood falling into his eyes, Tubba silently thanked his ancestors for his thick skull. Tubba and Bubba had clashed countless times before, but the injury to his head had woken Tubba up. This was no longer the mutual dislike they had as children, nor the mildly violent clashes they had as they reached adulthood, where one kick or one punch was enough to constitute the fight. This was an out and out brawl of hatred between the two of them. And it would not end until one of them was hurt tremendously. Judging by the cries of the crowd in support of Bubba, Tubba knew who they were rooting for. Within a few minutes, Tubba's red scales were not the only scales littering the ground. Tubba had opened many painful patches of pink skin by tearing off the orange scales on Bubba's extremities, but both Clubbas were skillful enough fighters to keep their injuries to their extremities, barring the one strike to Tubba's head. As the battle raged on, Tubba cursed himself for not expecting that blow; this was a battle, after all. Making the assumption that Bubba would hold anything back out of dignity was a fallacy. The wound in his head was causing his head to spin and making it difficult to walk straight, but Tubba still found enough energy to repel Bubba. Still, it was only Bubba on the offensive, his tremendous strength and endurance lending power to him as the battle stretched on and on. Eventually, however, Bubba's sheer strength overpowered Tubba. The orange Clubba connected with a punch on Tubba's belly, knocking the wind out of him. Before he could draw the power to repel the blow and bring the battle to even keel again, Bubba brought his club back, before drilling it into Tubba's belly scales, sending the smaller Clubba flying upwards, while goring out multiple belly scales in the process. Tubba felt the ground roughly contact the scales on his knees and belly as he landed, the pain rushing through him so intense that he could barely find the ability to move as Bubba came storming at him. In a last ditch, desperate attempt, Tubba, face-down in the dirt, let his hands wander on the sands in an effort to find his club, which had been thrown out of his hands as he landed. Finding it, he stuck the wooden end upwards in the same split second that he saw Bubba leap at him with the intention of drilling him into the ground, causing the orange Clubba's momentum to impale him on the wooden end of the club. While normal wood would shatter, the magical reinforcement of Clubban clubs ensured that the wood acted more like metal while still staying lightweight for Clubbas. So, rather than landing on Tubba roughly and painfully as he had intended, Bubba briefly contacted Tubba's shell with his fists, before awkwardly staggering away as he felt the club impale itself in him. Tubba picked himself off the ground, suddenly becoming consciously aware of the crowd lapsing into silence around him. A few steps away, Bubba staggered with the wooden end of the club still stuck in his belly, his orange hand clapsing it in a desperate attempt to pull it out of him, his club lying useless by his side. He doubled over, falling on his knees, closing his eyes in pain. Cold fear washed over Tubba. Had he seriously injured Bubba? Although the battle was brutal and vile, he had guessed they would both stop before serious injury, although not out of compassion, but out of fear of the repercussions that would result from maiming another Clubba. "Scared ya?" Bubba questioned, suddenly opening his eyes and tearing the wooden club out of his belly to the cheers of the crowd around him. A single, white belly scale fell from it, leaving a slightly bleeding patch of skin. "Come on, Goombile, you need more than just that lightweight club to puncture a hole in a Clubba's belly. Useless move. Good for nothing. But I'd expect nothing more from the Clubba that defines that." Tubba felt a mixture of relief and fury as he glared at Bubba. Relief, at not being subject to the severe repercussions that would've resulted from Bubba's injury or death, but fury at Bubba's gall to continue mocking him. The battle had been even, but as Bubba turned to Laff and crowed to the crowd around him, they began to treat it like Bubba had won the battle. "BUBBA! BUBBA! BUBBA!" They chanted, the crowd dispersing behind Tubba to conglomerate around Bubba, who accepted it with vigour. Tubba stood there, watching the orange Clubba lead the way into the school, coaxing his supporters to chant "Buffa" rather than "Bubba." Tubba felt the pain of his wounds wash over him as Gonzales rested a blue hand on his shoulder, a wordless gesture of support. But what hurt more was his pride, as he bent his head and slowly walked into the school, defeated by the masses once again.